


He Made The Devil So Much Stronger Than a Man

by AlternativeBoyScout



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, game of thrones
Genre: A little, Book 4: A Feast for Crows, Brainwashing, Cannon Divergent, F/F, F/M, Hellfire mainly, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I am sorry for this, Inspired by Notre-Dame de Paris | The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Jamie and Brienne may not be cannon yet but they are in my heart, M/M, Religious Cults, Religious Guilt, The Seven, Ultimate Power Corrupting Ultimately, a Song of Ice and Fire rewrite, a love letter to Jamie Lannister's character development, asshole to good boy, cause you know the tv show isn't that cannon anymore, exploration of Westerosi religion, the Sparrows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-02-10 13:36:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18661471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlternativeBoyScout/pseuds/AlternativeBoyScout
Summary: The boy is no longer a boy but a man of the Sparrows. The Seven smiles upon their work with the people. The Queen is a dirty woman who must be punished for her actions. The whole of the Kingdom must be punished for the sins of the masses. They could all be saved.... if they repented.A story set during A Feast of Crows, and season five of Game of Thrones. It explores the manipulation of the Sparrows and the influence of religion in Westeros. Loosely based on the Hunchback of Notre Dam, but with more Westerosi flavor.





	1. A Quick Note

**Author's Note:**

> Ello!  
> My name is Kalin and this is one of my more serious works, I've written a couple of other things but this is the one that keeps sticking in my head. It's gonna be a bit messy at first and I have no idea if anyone will actually read this but I certainly hope it turns out well enough..

This is a quick note for this story. I'm basing this on the themes of Hunchback not really the actual story itself, ie the theme of corrupt religion etc.   
I'm still attempting to flesh out the Sparrows since there isn't much explicit information on their religious practices and beliefs so I may have to take some creative liberty with that, so I am sorry in advance for my shitty world building.   
Furthermore I think it is important to acknowledge that this story will span more than A Feast of Crows and Season Five of GOT but will be as close to cannon as possible. The main point of me writing this story is to see the war through the eyes of the religious army, and how their beliefs effected the plot of the show, as well as exposing it's cult like nature. This story should be pretty drawn out, and I will attempt to keep chapters as long as possible , and updates as frequent as possible. However, since I am starting university in the fall things may be a bit slower around then but I will try my best to be active.   
Thank you in advance for your interest in my little monstrosity. I so hope you enjoy what is to come.  
With much love,   
Kalin


	2. Not Quiet A Boy Not Yet A Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boy becomes a man.

The boy stood on the cool marble floor barefoot in the morning air. His wiggled his toes feeling the power of the sept run through his feet to the top of his head. The Mother has provided him with a pleasant night of good sleep despite the putrid smell of a boiling city and the cries of the poor for justice. He would give those folks their due justice, as all Sparrows would but there was simply too much to do at the moment.  
He sighed contently reaching his arms towards the ceiling and stretching his back, which cracked loudly. The pallets given to the Sparrows were certainly not comfortable but it was much better than sleeping on the often icy marble. He leaned over to his small pile of possessions and pulled out his dull grey robe and slid it over his head. The wool was pleasant at this time in the morning but the boy knew by midday it would be sticking to his skin like some Gods forsaken leech.   
But today was not a day for complaining, it was a day for celebration. It was the day he would finally be fully accepted as a Sparrow. For the first time in his life the boy of 16 would be something more than himself, and that excited him. Men of the Sparrows were respected in King’s Landing and helped keep a turbulent peace. Following the murder of the ‘beloved’ Joffrey the streets of King’s Landing were quite unsafe, to the point where even the hint of a royal visit would cause a riot. The people felt abandoned, and that’s what the Faith Militant (the Sparrows) had been reformed to remedy. If the Gold Cloaks could not keep the peace the Seven very well could and much better than the Gold Cloaks at that.   
The boy smiled and slipped his feet into his poorly woven sandals, the favorite of his few possessions as they saved his soft feet from the sizzling streets of King’s Landing. The boy carefully made his bed once fully dressed fluffing what may have passed for a pillow. The Sparrows were men of few earthly possessions and fewer comforts, but the boy could hardly be discontent with his lot, as he certainly had more than most of the people around him. He picked up his alms basket and held the basket against his hip as he walked out the narrow hall. At this time of day the sept was dark and slightly damp, the walls sweated moisture a side effect of an abnormally warm fall. He smiled peacefully as a small group of septas squeezed past him in the small hallway. The girls smiled back and continued to delve further into the sept. The boy came to a kitchen at the end of the hall, the smell of freshly baked bread filled the smoky room. He carefully gathered a few loaves of bread that had been left on the table for him to give out along with a small pot of hearty stew. He arranged the bread carefully and picked the basket backup balancing it on his hip. With his free hand he lifted the pot off the table with the utmost amount of grace he could manage for every drop spilled, was a mouthful of food stolen from the impoverished peasants of King’s Landing. He then started his lang walk through the city, the dull ache from carrying the pot one handed just starting to appear. He knew by the end of his rounds his arm would be numb and he’d be grateful for it.   
He handed the trenchers of soup one by one to the small girls that swarmed him the moment he entered Flea Bottom. He knew them to be orphans of the Battle of Blackwater and would always attempt to feed them when he stumbled upon them. He handed the final and smallest girl, a red head with a perpetually sunburned face, a large portion of soup and patted her head softly before standing and continuing on his way.   
Perhaps one of the most rewarding moments of his day was his midday break he took on his way back to the sept from Flea Bottom. He would sit on a set of stairs off the main road away from the mud, and look out into the street to see children playing, and it would remind him of all the good the Sparrows were doing. He would then get up place his then empty pot in the basket and trudge through the shit and mud that where the streets.   
When he reached the sept he carefully scrubbed the crud from his sandals, and dropped his pot back off in the kitchen before going back to his room to change out of his stifling robes. The cooler air of the sept softly touched his skin and he sighed contently. He took a moment to rest. In a few hours time, he would be a fully fledged Sparrow but first he needed to finish his ungodly long list of chores. Once fully dressed again he scrubbed the floor until they shone, he brought the sinner prisoners their food, he did laundry alongside the other soon to be Sparrows, he cleaned the chamber pots of the higher ups as he held his breath to avoid gagging. After what seemed to be too soon and not soon enough, he finished his chores and began to ready himself for the ceremony.  
In the shallow tub the boy scrubbed his skin until it flared and angry red, letting him know he was clean. He roughly put soap into his hair washing out the dirty from the past week. He dunked his head and cleansed the rest of the suds from his body before toweling off, and once again tugging his woolen robes over his head. He said a quick prayer to the Father to protect him in his future endeavors before heading into the main part of the sept before his initiation. 

The elder Sparrow jerked the boys head back roughly, using his razor sharp knife to strip the boy of his chin length red hair. The elder wasn’t careful in his shaving kicking the boys head as the knife skipped along in certain places and in others caught in knots leaving patches of hair. The boy winced but remained quiet as was expected from him. The High Sparrow Spoke loudly praying to the Gods, asking for the protection of these young boys in their journey to destroy sin and preserve the ways of the Seven. The elder Sparrow again jerked the boys head back,but farther this time so the boy could see the dull reflection of the fire in the man's glassy eyes, his seven pointed star standing out an angry red as the light danced across his face. The boy knew what was coming next, but nothing could have prepared him for the feeling of the knife biting his skin. The boy bit his lip roughly, his whole body shaking as the elder cut the seven pointed star into his forehead as a unbearably slow pace. The boy used everything in his power not to scream as blood ran into his eyes stinging him and bit down harder on his lip, to the point where he worried he might bite through. After what seemed a million years the elder finally released him, his whole body falling forward onto the cool floor his forehead felt as if it was burning with the power of a thousand suns. The boy was yanked to his feet his shoulder screaming in protest and barely conscious, the boy heard the High Sparrow declare them men of the Faith Militant. The boy smiled through the blood blinding him, tasting it as it ran down his face and onto his lips. He was finally a man.

The man looked upon the city from the balcony of the sept. The air was still, along with the city as it was the wee hours of the morning where the sky was still dressed in the dark blue of night. The man smiled. This was his city, these were his people, he would save them from themselves, even if it meant burning the city to the ground. They would repent or face dragonfire. He lifted his arms to the sky and softly whispered

“And so it shall be Father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Thank you for your interest in this story. I'm sorry this first bit is a little boring but I needed it to set up a bit of background behind our boy and his religion. A quick reminder that as information about the Faith Militant isn't very abundant a lot of this info is specualtion so please pardon any mistakes. Leave a comment or feel free to message me I would love to hear from you all!   
> \- xoxo Kalin


	3. Sinning Sins and all That Sinned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boy meets Sin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so so so so so sorry for the delay in posting another chapter. Writer's block is such a massive jerk tbh. This chapter is also not beta read so please excuse grammatical errors. Thank you in advance for reading!

The man had never truly experienced real sin in his 16 years. However he did not know happiness in his life, nor wealth. He had barely learned his letters well enough to make out pieces of scripture, ironically at the insistence of his mother who was uneducated her whole short life.   
His mother was a retired whore turned soup shop owner, her skills in the kitchen rivaling that of some of the best chefs in King's Landing. The shop she owned was famous for making brown for the people who were less fortunate, with whatever they could catch for a copper. His mother was a good kind woman, one who freely gave what she could give, however little that was. He was his mother's only child and a faded image of her. Her hair was a bright fiery red, while his was a pale carrot orange; her skin was a slightly tan, his was pale as a ghost and was flecked with freckles; she had dark green eyes and his were an ugly pale green.In every aspect except for their shared tallness he was a less saturated version of his mother. He spent his childhood playing in the muddy streets of King’s Landing with the other children from the same corner of the city, and he was happy.   
Until he wasn’t. Living near Fleabottom while good for a business that sold copious amounts of brown, was not good for his mother. Somehow the air was worse there and at the tender age of eight his mother fell ill and died suddenly leaving him alone and on the streets. He was taken in by the Faith not long after that. As a child of the Faith one had to work hard. He spent hours learning his scriptures by heart, and was whipped on the knuckles with a switch if he messed them up. Needless to say there was a very steep learning curve with him. He was kind. He was good. He was obedient out of fear of damnation, the thought of being spurred by the Seven who had provided him with safe haven terrified him. He was coddled and protected by his new found guardians, who when he was good gave him freedom to play with the other children who lived around the Sept. He was never happy in the Sept, but he was content and safe and that was how he liked it.   
The man was making his soup rounds in Fleabottom when he came face to face with true unfiltered sin. A man stood on the edge of Fleabottom, garbed in the traditional Lannister House gear, all gold and red. He held a helmet emblazoned with a snarling Lannister lion at his side and a spear in the other. He had a longsword strapped to his back, that glinted brightly in the early morning sun. The man’s mouth dropped open he had never seen such a man. He appeared to be a Dornish man with long curly black hair that spilled effortlessly around his shoulders, he was tall but well muscled and had a wicked smile that he flashed at the man the moment he saw him staring. This was what the Faith has warned him about. Sin presenting itself in the split second the man was least expecting it. He tried to tear his eyes away from the beautiful man, he could not. His breath caught in his chest when he caught sight of the adorable gap in the Dornish man’s wide grin. Oh what he wouldn’t give to talk to that man!   
The man snapped himself out of it. “You cannot! You cannot you foolish foolish man!” he hissed at himself. This would not be his moment to cave in, he would not fall to his deepest desires simply because some wildly exotic man gave him a stupid smile, With great effort the man tore himself away from his moment of transfiction, continuing on his soup route quickening his steps as he drew nearer to the Dornish man. The Dornishman’s hazel eyes met that of the redheaded man for split second as the man passed, he even grinned with his eyes. The man felt a light pinch on his bottom as he rounded the corner, he gasped almost dropping his soup pot from shock. He whipped around to see the Dornishman laughing a deep belly laugh at his expense, The man narrowed his eyes and bit his lip roughly, holding back the slew of curses he wanted to scream. He would not yell at this man he would not give him the satisfaction. He abruptly turned and continued on his route leaving the Dornishman to laugh at his retreating form. 

His dark black curls slipped into his hazel eyes as he bent over the smaller man. His breath ghosted along the man’s neck, before he kissed it softly. He grinned wickedly at the man. His gap even more adorable closer up. The man tangled his hand into curly black mess pulling him up and closer until his nose was only inches away from the Dornishman’s. The man could feel his cheeks flush bright red. The Dornishman didn’t speak a word,but pressed his lips against the man’s. They were soft and warm, they felt like being home. The man wanted more, oh how he wanted more.He wrapped his legs around the Dornishman’s waist trying to get what he wanted, but the Dornishman pulled his face away and screamed, “Wake up!”  
The man jolted awake, tears running down his cheeks. It had felt all too real to him. He had sinned and he knew it. The High Sparrow warned him about the power of lust. The man cried hysterically, full chest rattling sobs. He needed to repent he had to! He got shakely to his feet, bracing himself against the rough wall. He stumbled down the hallway to the High Sparrow’s room where he still sat at his nightly vigil.   
The High Sparrow looked up, as he heard the man stumble into his. The older man appeared annoyed at first but upon seeing the younger man’s distress he rose slowly, “My child,” the High Sparrow said “what brings you here at such a late hour?” The boy dropped to his knees in front of the High Sparrow. “Oh your holiness! I have sinned! I seek repentance.” he sobbed. The High Sparrow took this in calmly, resting his hand softly on the man’s shoulder. “Now what is it that you’ve done child?” the old man said gently. The young man looked at the floor and blurted out his desires of the flesh. The High Sparrow’s face dropped. “That is a very serious sin indeed, my son..” the High Sparrow said before walking to the corner of the room and grabbing a switch. The High Sparrow lifted his arm high above his head, the switch whistling as it came down upon the mans back. 

The man howled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll that finale was such a disappointment let's be honest. So I'm gonna fix what they screwed up. Sorry lmao Jaime was so out of character the entire time after the Battle of Winterfell and I refuse to except his lame death.. so be prepaired for a bit of a fix it in the future.

**Author's Note:**

> Please stay tuned for future updates! Feel free to comment and such with suggestions I would love to hear from ya'll


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